


Fallen, but not lost.

by ItsYaBoySora



Series: Chosen [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Eliksni, Gen, Red War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsYaBoySora/pseuds/ItsYaBoySora
Summary: A lone Ghost in the middle of the Red War turns to an unexpected ally for help.





	1. A Discovery

At first, Prerlas thought it was just an injured bird and discarded the thought of it almost immediately. The Traveler had just been taken by those Red Cabal, and the other Fallen were in a full panic, trying to claim anything they could. As Prerlas was picking over a dead Legionary, he heard faint talking coming from the wobbling bird. He lowered, then dropped the slug rifle he was inspecting and scurried over. As he got closer, he realized it was not a bird, it was a ghost. A dying ghost. He had never seen one this close before.

“Traveler? Traveler I can’t… I can’t hear you? Where did you go?” The ghost fell out of the air, making a soft thud in the grass. Its light began to visibly flicker, and fade. Prerlas took the opportunity to investigate the Ghost while there were no other Dregs around. As he reached down to scoop up the Ghost, it came back to life briefly, hovering slightly. “No! No don’t. I have to fulfill the Traveler’s wishes. I have…” The light flickered back out, and the Ghost fell into Prerlas’s extended hand. 

Curiosity. He began rolling it around and pulling at the edges of it. 'What were they made of? How did they extend and move so easily?' It had a slightly scuffed green Shell with white detailing, and had sharper protusions on the corners compared to the ghosts he'd seen. ‘Did it have Guardian?’ He pondered. ‘Was Guardian dead?’

He realized he was staring at it in the open, and he quickly tucked the Ghost away in one of his pouches. ‘Spider would pay well for this. But, maybe he should keep it?’ He felt… protective of it. Maybe it wasn’t lightless yet. “I will hang onto you a bit longer,” He muttered under his breath. He went back to scavenging the dead Legionary.


	2. A Bargain

Prerlas was inside the cabin of a Goliath Tank, taking apart various electronic components, when it spoke again.

“It’s dark, I’m surrounded by Darkness. I don’t want this. I can’t hear you Traveler.” Then, a pause.  
“I’m scared.”

Prerlas had forgotten about the Green Ghost, and began looking to see if any of the Cabal panels were lighting up, then turning to rifle through his pouches to make sure he didn’t leave a transponder intact. 

“Traveler, please. I’m not ready for this.”

He flipped open the pouch with the Ghost, a dull light emanating from the corner of the bag. It looked like it was focusing on Prerlas. 

“You… I remember you. You… took me?”

Prerlas hissed out a reply, offended, “Take? No. Find? Yes. Fancy ghost for Prerlas. Maybe trade to Spider? Maybe no longer have to scavenge for ether, can scavenge for me.”

The Ghost sat silent for a moment, briefly, before calling out, “Wait, where is the Traveler?”

“Cabal took it. Studying it. No light to be had. Rumors of shard, deep in woods. Guardians still have light somehow. Unsure. Prerlas prefers scavenge to scouting.” He began to start removing panels from the cockpit again.

“Take me to it.”

“A command? Ghost is not Kell. Ghost is not Captain. Ghost not Archon.”  
“I’ll…” the Ghost pondered. It had nothing to offer, it was in no bargaining position.  
“I thought the Fallen wanted to be closer to the Traveler? If you help me out, I’ll put in a good word for you. How’s that?”

Prerlas stopped tinkering with the electronics of the Goliath Tank, and sat motionless for a second, before turning and looking at the Ghost. “What words?”


	3. A Journey's Start

Prerlas climbed out of the Goliath wreckage just as a Shank hovered over to him. It buzzed and whirred, indicating that it had heard two voices in the Goliath, and wondered who else was there.

“Just Prerlas. You heard Radio. I removed components.” Prerlas reached into a pouch and produced some circuitry, a handful of wires, and several tubes of various composites. The Shank hummed happily and opened a component underneath, where Prerlas deposited some of the circuitry. “If you find more machines, let Prerlas know,” he said as he waved the Shank away with his free hand. He slipped the remaining components back into their pouches, making sure to place some on top of the Ghost.  
As the Shank floated away, Prerlas turned and looked near the forest edge. He only had rumors to go on, but he knew the general direction. Maybe. He had some materials in his bags he could trade for information, if it came to it. This was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. 

He knew this part of the woods. And the next part. And the fields after that. He knew of the Dam, and the rumors of what lie in there. He knew he didn’t want to be Taken. That meant he needed to cross the water below the Dam. Safer, but longer journey.  
He looked around for signs of other Shanks and Dregs before opening the pouch. He brushed aside the spare parts briefly.

“Remember our Deal little Ghost. We begin our journey now.”

“Thank y-“ the Ghost said, but Prerlas had already removed his hand, and the lid of the pouch flipped shut.


	4. The River, Part I

Mumbling came from the pouch as Prerlas approached the shoreline. 

“Quiet” Prerlas whispered towards the bag. “Not quite past listening ears. Once across the water, we shall be fine.”

The mumbling instead grew louder. More frantic, even. Prerlas tried to ignore it at first, but it kept growing in intensity until he finally flipped the lid open. 

“You are good at giving instructions, but bad at taking them little light.” Prerlas was irritated. He stared into the bag, his eyes fixated on the squirming ghost amid the debris.

“I can’t handle water. I mean, I can handle some water but I can’t be fully submerged. You can’t take me through water or else I’ll… cease to function.” The Ghost buzzed and whirred with a ferocity Prerlas hadn’t seen. 

“Interesting. We will talk about why later. For now, be quiet gifted spark. Otherwise, I die and you get pulled apart piece by piece.” He let the words linger for a moment, then “Choose.” 

The silence was enjoyable. Prerlas reached for his pouch before the Ghost whispered out a quick. “I trust you.” It gave Prerlas pause. The pause turned into hesitation, then confusion. Then ultimately, determination. He closed the pouch and cinched it carefully.


	5. The River, Part II

Prerlas said nothing, but his face gave way to a myriad of emotions as he stared across the water. He had crossed water before but nothing nearly as big or as... angry, as this water. He began cautiously walking into the river. It pulled at his legs, trying to take him away. The stones in the water were hard to stand on, smoother than the weapons he once polished for his Kell. Yet still, his determination and pride in his task made him set one foot in front of the other. He was making good, steady progress when he heard shouting from the shoreline.

“DREG! Why are you in the water? Where is your Captain?”

Prerlas turned around and saw a Vandal standing in the clearing between the forest and the shore, flanked by two other dregs. It shouted out again, this time saying “What is in your bag? Stealing? You have things to hide?” It began to raise its Wire Rifle towards Prerlas. “Get out of the water and hand over bag, you’ll get to keep your Ether rations and will be reprimanded. Otherwise you die here.”

Prerlas froze. If he got caught trying to smuggle a Ghost, he knew exactly how he would be reprimanded. His only options were now “compliant, painful death” or “probable death, floating away in the cold, angry water.” He couldn’t fail the Light. It trusted him.

Before he had a chance to decide, the head of the Vandal erupted into viscera, its Ether spilling outwards and upwards as it fell limp onto the shore. A loud snap came a half-second later, and both Dregs instinctively began scurrying behind the nearest trees. The one on the left made it a few feet before a hail of bullets ripped it to shreds. It screamed out in pain as its Ether returned to the world. The surviving Dreg crouched behind a tree, shaking and shivering, hands firmly gripping its own shoulders. Prerlas assumed it was trying to make peace with the end. He would. He shook the grip of death from his mind and took this opportunity, amidst all the confusion and gunfire, to continue into the water.


	6. The Guardians, Part I

The river was filled with large boulders and several trees from the nearby hillside, presumably displaced from a landslide caused by Cabal artillery. They gave Prerlas an occasional break in order to regain his strength, and to rest. He found himself closing in on a tree stuck between two boulders when he heard more gunfire on the shore. He turned back, only to see the remaining Dreg trying to run away, doubled over in pain. Blood and Ether were leaking out of several fresh holes in torso, and its arms were raised, trying to protect its head. Two guardians quickly emerged from the treeline and began saying something to each other, but they were too far away from Prerlas for him to hear it clearly. The larger one of the two shouldered its rifle, drew out a Hand Cannon, and began taking aim. The first shot hit the Dreg in the shoulder, tearing flesh from bone and leaving the arm hanging limp, barely held on by skin and muscle. “Damnit!” the guardian roared out, and began to take aim again. The Dreg was nearing the treeline, limping and in fear for what remainder of life it had. Prerlas knew that the dreg would not get enough Ether to survive through the week, even if it did survive this encounter.

However, the next shot did not miss its intended target. Skull fragments and teeth went careening into the forest as the few remaining whispers of Ether left the Dregs body. “Fuck yeah!” the Guardian exclaimed, reloading its Hand Cannon with haste, “I can turn in that bounty now.”  
The second Guardian finally spoke, “Hell yes, can’t wait to see what we get from Tyra. Hey, I wonder what those Fallen were doing. They didn’t see us coming at all, you think they found something?”

Prerlas became warm with fear. He preferred his Ether right where it was, and began to turn back towards the wedged tree. If he could make it behind there, they wouldn’t find him, and hopefully lose interest and leave. He would be fine.

He will be fine.

He began wading through the water once more, but in his hurry, he hadn’t noticed that the water was suddenly deeper. He planted his foot forward confidently but found no purchase, and it sunk down another two feet before coming to a stop.


	7. The River, Part III

Time began to slow, he felt like he had ages to think about what to do. The Ghost. It was slung around his waist and it couldn’t be submerged. He gripped the bag with his left hand and ripped it from his body, throwing it towards the rocks. He could feel the water slowly rising above his waistline, passing further up his chest. ‘Is this what time is like for Guardians? Is this how they’re able to murder hundreds of his kin while they can’t be killed in return? Do they always think this fast?’

Reality sped back up. He splashed into the water with incredible force, losing his footing in the process. His eyes were slow to adjust, and he scrambled to find the riverbed with his hands as he pivoted downwards in the water. He eventually felt ground beneath him, and reoriented himself so he could stand. His head reemerged from the waters as quickly as it had entered, and he stood up as tall as a Vandal. Panicked, his eyes adjusting yet again, he tried to orient himself. He had lost track of the bag and the makeshift island he tossed it to.


	8. The Guardians, Part II

“What the fuck was that?” He could hear the Guardians clearly now, his eyes barely able to make out their shapes on the shoreline. “Oh shit, look! There’s another one in the water. It looks like he’s going for that bag. Oh man there’s gotta be something good in there!” Prerlas’s eyes all came into focus, and he could see, very clearly, that both guardians were now staring directly at him. To make a bad situation worse, they were both now reaching for their weapons. 

Prerlas instinctually ducked beneath the water line, and began trying to scramble for the bottom when he felt a somewhat familiar pain in several distinct areas. He reached out to the nearby boulder and pulled himself around it, but then noticed that clouds of ether were now floating downstream. He clung to the rock as more bullets tore through the water, holding his breath and body still. As it felt like his chest was ready to burst, the bullets stopped, and he counted a few more seconds before slowly pulling himself back above the waterline, behind the boulder. The stinging pain was still there, and he knew this could get him killed, but some information was better than no information. He had to know what the Guardians were doing, if they thought they killed him. If they still wanted the bag.


	9. The Guardians, Part III

“Dibs,” the larger one said. It seemed to be a Titan, it was nearly twice the size of its partner. It was the one who ruthlessly chased down dreg, it was the one Prerlas feared more.

“You can’t make that jump Ant,” balked the other Guardian. They wore a cloak with a hood, hand cannon at their side, definitely a Hunter. Their posture indicated agitation. Perhaps they would leave this alone. The leader’s Ghost chimed in “Please Antares, we both know you can’t make that.”

“Watch me.” The Titan backed up towards the tree line, and made a running start for the water. He catapulted into the air and began to glide towards the rock. Prerlas lowered his head closer to the waterline, trying to keep a focus on the colossal Guardian as it approached. His quick estimations let him know that the Guardian will not, indeed, make it.

“Oh fuck, shit, wait” the Guardian started to fall towards the water. Suddently, the Titan erupted with a shock of electricity, and shot forward with incredible force. Prerlas stared at the guardian with intently, gripping the boulder with all his strength. If the Guardian saw him, he would surely die. The Titan’s momentum carried him within inches of the boulder, and his helmet tilted down towards Prerlas, but as he raised his weapon to take aim, he dropped into the water with incredible force. 

“Goddamnit Ant. Ugh,” the Hunter sighed, pulled out their Ghost, then jumped on their sparrow. “C’mon Cerberus, let’s go get his stupid body.” Prerlas looked back towards the titan, its body limply bobbing up and down as it floats down river. It occasionally smacks into a boulder or tree, and bounces off violently.

“Good water. Take him far far away from us.” Prerlas uttered out of relief.  
The sparrow and second Ghost sped along the shoreline and began to fade into the distance.

He refocused. His grip had loosened unintentionally, and he became painfully aware that two of his arms were shot. Thankfully only one of them is a useful one, but the pain that emanated from his nub did not make things easier. He started losing the battle against the tide, and could feel himself starting to slip. To double onto his already poor luck, he noticed the bag is partially submerged in water.


	10. The River, Part IV

“Traveler help me.” Prerlas used the last of his strength to pull himself on top of the wedged tree. He took a few seconds to regain his breath, then reached for the bag and pulled it off the rock. He nervously flipped open the lid. “Gifted one, are you still functioning?” The ghost set in the bag, motionless, so he poked it in the hopes of stirring it. It felt partially wet. He cursed loudly in Elinski, words that bear no meaning outside the language. Words of frustration. He steeled his resolve.

“Apologies if you are little light, this could hurt.” Prerlas climbed up onto the boulder and began to swing the bag overhead. This was the best chance he had at saving the ghost, as he could not swim against the torrential waters. When the felt the bag had good momentum, he released it, sending it flying over to the shore, landing safely away from the waterline. He had done it. It was safe. He didn’t notice that throwing the bag sent him off balance, and he felt the cold water on his face before he blacked out.


	11. The Guardians, Part IV

“I got him, I got him!” the Hunter said with exuberance. “Go ahead and revive him so we can bitch about how stupid that was. Probably wasn’t even anything worthwhile in that bag.” the Hunter sighed out, audibly disgruntled. The second ghost flew over to the Titan and expanded, and within seconds the Titan began coughing and gasping for air.

Prerlas’s Ghost sat hovering behind some trees, watching the scene unfold. He had awoken in a bag with Prerlas was nowhere to be found, so he went searching. He didn’t recognize these Guardians, but here they were, with their light, acting like nothing had changed. Prerlas was right, there had to be a way to get the light back. He emerged from behind the trees to approach them when the Titan yelled out, “Did you get that stupid Dreg?” 

The Ghost sunk back behind the tree, and listened.

“What Dreg?” the Hunter replied. “We killed them all.”

“Ugh the one in the water, the one with the bag!” the Titan was becoming agitated.

“Yeah, we shot him, and you went to go get the bag and died Ant. Then we had to chase your body downstream.”

“No, he was still alive. We locked eyes before I tanked. He probably got away with that bag. Son of a bitch.” The Titan paused for a second and then, “Let’s go get him. There has to be something good in there. No Dreg would risk that much for some scrap.” He stood up and cleared his rifle.

“I’m not going to chase you downstream again Ant.” The Hunter rubbed the outside of his helmet.

“Well, there is a bridge to the south we can cross. We won’t lose much time if we take our sparrows.” Cerberus chimed in. The Titan looked back at his ghost. “I knew I liked you Berry.” The ghost deflated a little, as though it was going to respond, but then disappeared.   
“Let’s go Kayta.” The Titan motioned south, and then hopped on his sparrow and sped off, with the Hunter following suit a few moments later.


	12. The Light

Prerlas laid down on the shore, tired and weak. He was low on ether, in both supply and in body. He stared at the sky for what might have been the last time and watched as soft ether vapors danced skyward. The edges of his vision began to grow dim. He wondered, would there be anything after this? Was this worth it? The edges closed in. He had barely escaped the water after coming back to consciousness, being tossed end over end in the current. Was this the end? The pain was fading from his wounds, the ether vapors becoming less dense. All he wanted was for the Traveler to see him. 

Everything went white, and for a few moments, there was silence. 

Then colors came back. The sky, the trees. A bird flew overhead. 

“Prerlas? Prerlas I’m so glad I found you. I woke up in a bag and I couldn’t find you and, when I did…” he paused for a moment.  
"I... I'm sorry. This was the best... the best I could do with what little light I have left. I transmatted some of your materials well, onto you. You’re not a Guardian but, I had to do something. You weren’t going to survive.”

Prerlas looked down at the rubber hosing tightly wrapped around his injured arms. The hole in his abdomen now had two soft, squishy balls of silicone blocking the ether from leaking. He looked back up at the ghost.

"Why?"

"Why... what?" The ghost rotated its shell slightly, hovering weakly a foot in front of him.

"Why use light on me? Without ether, I fade into the afterlight. You would find another fallen to barter passage." Prerlas sat up. His clothes and remaining pouches were soaked through, but thankfully everything will dry with time. He reached into one of his pockets and produced a small tank and a mask. "It is a waste. I lost much ether. I do not have enough to survive."  
He began affixing the tank to the mask when the ghost erupted into a large ball of light. The corner pieces he had been fascinated by drifted around it, as though in orbit. He couldnt help but stare.

"There are several recently deceased Fallen in the area. Maybe... we could see if they have ether tanks. Then you won't have to worry for a while, right?"

For the first time since they met, Prerlas laughed, extended and full of joy. "I could be Kell in no time! No wonder captain wanted ghost so much. Should I live, I will have many questions enlightened one. For now we find ether. Those... guardians" Prerlas says the words, dripping with hatred, "they will come for us. We must leave."


	13. Judgement

They began trekking deep into the forest, Prerlas taking deep, exasperated breaths as he limped along. He held the Ghost in his hand as he walked now, to help it conserve its energy. There was no reason to hide anymore. He wouldn't be able to defend himself anyways.

“Judgement.” Prerlas stated.

“What?” The Ghost rotated its eye to look at Prerlas, the upper parts of its shell raising slightly.  
“Your name, I shall call you Judgement.” There is a momentary pause.

“I… have a name already.” The light from the ghost narrowed slightly, the upper shell fidgeting a little bit.

“Yes, but I shall call you Judgement. It is a substitute name.” Prerlas pushed some foliage out of the way and drew Judgement in closer.

“You mean, a nickname?” His tone was almost incredulous.

“Yes. The name carries many meanings for me. You have earned it.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything.” His shell collapsed inwards.

“Incorrect. You saved me.”

“Well, you saved me first. And we had a deal.” Prerlas stopped walking. He focused his attention on Judgement. He lifted the ghost towards him.

“Deals do not matter if you are dead. You could have made a new deal. You did not. You judged me worthy of continued life. You trust me. You have faith in me. I will do as we agreed little Judgement, but you no longer have to hold your bargain. I consider debt paid.” Prerlas moved Judgement slightly in his hand and lowered him. As he began walking, Judgement spoke.

“About that, I can’t really talk to the Traveler.” Prerlas stopped once more. He turned his head slightly towards the ghost, looking at it with only two eyes.

“Curious. You lied for preservation?” He lifted Judgement closer to his face. He turned his head entirely and observed him closely.

“Well, it’s not a lie either. I can’t talk to the Traveler, but I can understand it. It can’t hear me, but it feels me. It’s… complicated.” Judgement's eye darted around, trying to cover his shame. To avert the truth somehow.

“Life is complicated, as is the Light. How would you have held our deal?” Prerlas's voice sounded curious, not upset as Judgement was expecting.

“I was going to send a message out to the Tower, that a dreg had saved me and that he was to be protected once someone came to reclaim me.”

“And why, Judgement, would the Guardians listen? I am dreg. They cut down my kind, innumerable lost every day.” The words bore down on Judgement with incredible weight. 

“I… have faith. That some of them are good. That they’d understand.” Judgement thought of the Guardians they had run into at the river. The ones that nearly killed Prerlas already. 

“You expect much. I had thought to trade you to Spider for safe passage from Earth.” The words cut Judgement unexpectedly. Silence hung in the air for longer than was comfortable. “I am sorry little one. I would not do that now. Time changes things, changes us.” The silence returned, and Prerlas pressed onwards.


	14. The Fallen Camp

When they reached the encampment, Judgement was hibernating again. After he used some light to help Prerlas, his moments of lucidity were fleeting, however intense. They must be getting closer, but without a direct connection, Judgement was draining. 

Prerlas surveyed the surrounding area before tucking Judgement gently behind one of his bag straps. He noted several Fallen corpses strung about the camp in various states of disarray. They had been there for a while, some looked like they had been killed as they were resting by a campfire long burned out. Others looked as they though had been killed scrambling to shelter. He moved to the nearest ones and began poring over their bodies for Ether tanks. 

The first body he searched was another Dreg like himself. It had been riddled full of bullet holes, and it had fallen partially into the fire, its flesh burned and its clothes in tatters. Surprisingly, he found one Ether Tank, and tucked away in a pocket. He rolled the dreg over onto its back and crossed its arms. “Though we are Fallen, may you not be lost.” He lingered for a few moments.  
He moved over to the next body, and the next, and the next after that, repeating the ritual. He reclaimed enough tanks to survive the next few weeks. Judgement stirred.

“Why do I feel like I’m being squeezed? Where am I?” The eye of the ghost rotated and looked up at Prerlas. “Oh! This is new. It's, uh, a bit too cozy though.”

Prerlas gently pulled Judgement from between his chest and the strap, holding him in his hand. Judgement surveyed the nearby area, taking note that the Fallen bodies looked peaceful. “This is a lot to take in. Are you ok Prerlas?"

“This is common. I am fine." He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself, ruminating on the next words.   
"I made sure they could see the light.” His tone was somber. While it might be common, it didn't make it any less painful. He drew a deep breath of Ether, freshly implanted into his facemask.   
“I... feel stronger now. Thank you Judgement. We can continue now.” He began to press onward, but walked with an odd gait for a few hundred feet before stopping. 

“Ah, I have healed.” He looked down and plucked the silicone balls from his torso. He tucked the silicone into a pouch, then removed the rubber bandages off his arms, save for one. “I thank you again Judgement. You are very resourceful and smart, like Prerlas.” Judgement’s shell moved a little bit out of excitement.

“No, thank you Prerlas. You’ve done so much to help me. I’ll never forget it.”   
Prerlas kept walking, but did not notice that Judgement’s eye had gone dark.


	15. A Brief Stop, Part I

Judgement was dark more often than not now. Prerlas had been taking measurements of time, and was beginning to be able to accurately gauge when Judgement would be awake and for how long. He did not share this information with Judgement, however. He was afraid.  
Prerlas smelled the air, and sensed a storm was coming. He pulled several large squares of fabric from one of his bags and got to work.

He set up a line between the two nearest trees and draped a couple of the squares over them, then began fixing the squares together with various clamps and rings. It was not a perfect system, but Prerlas didn’t have a workbench or proper tools, at least not in some years. He pulled one side of the fabric to the ground and pulled several large cabal munition shells out of his bag, placing them on the fabric as weights. He found several large rocks nearby to weigh down the other side, then crawled inside the makeshift tent and put Judgement into his lap. He had a minute or two, give or take.

Prerlas closed his eyes and began to drift off. He had been walking non-stop for several hours now, in total silence. It was nice to have some time to himself, but he grew lonelier with each passing day. He took several deep breaths and felt his muscles relax. The darkness of his eyelids started to give ways to visions. His friends, family, loves, all long gone. His muscles tensed back up again. 

“Prerlas? Are you ok?” the voice, soft and weak, came from below him. He turned his attention down, and saw his Mother, before the voice repeated again, louder. He reached out and the image vanished. He felt off balance and tried to steady himself, snapping back to reality. Judgement was awake.

“Yes. Just tired. Very tired little one.” His face softened slightly, giving Judgement a moment of relief. 

“Did you set up this tent? Are we stopping for the day?” Judgement's eye grew brigther with each passing second.  
“No, rain is coming. We will rest and continue into the night.” Prerlas straightened up, the wind had picked up outside and he looked to the edges of the tent. Everything was holding together.

“But, you need to sleep Prerlas. You can’t exhaust yourself. It’s not healthy.” Judgement wasn't pleased with being taken care of all the time. It was unnatural to him, the reverse of his instinct. He was supposed to be the protective one.

“I will sleep when we are safe.”  
“Are we… in danger?”  
Prerlas shifted a little, then adjusted the remaining rubber seal on his arm.

“My wounds came from Guardians. They wanted my bag. They did not know you were inside. They will keep searching.” Judgement looked at Prerlas. It began to rain outside the tent.


	16. A Brief Stop, Part II

“They’re not good Guardians. I-I saw them, when I went to go save you. I thought about going to them but, I heard them talk about you and… They’re not the kind of Guardians I’ll ever like.” Judgement fidgeted a bit in Prerlas’s lap. The conversation made him incredibly uncomfortable, as what he was saying was tantamount to sacrilege.  
“You saw them, yet you did not go? You are a curious little Judgement. I grow to like you more as each day passes.” He scooped up Judgement and then turned him outwards towards the rain. “But now I am the curious one, why can you not get wet?”

Judgement was glad to be talking about anything else right now.  
“Oh! Well, I can’t be submerged. I can get wet just fine I think, but I’d prefer not to check. I’m not wholly sure, I just know that when Guardians or Ghosts get submerged in liquid, their connection to the Traveler disappears. It’s quite strange.”

“I should build a home of water then.” Prerlas chuckled. “You ghosts and your guardians are fascinating.” His arm grew tired, so he rested his elbow on his knee, keeping Judgement held aloft. “What is your name?”

“Is this… a trick question?" The Ghost narrowed it's eye. "Judgement, right?”

“No little one, before you earned that name.”

“Oh! Ah, r-right.” Judgement stammered before continuing. “Well, I felt drawn to the name Lucien. But then I did some reading on that and… it felt... lame. I guess I didn’t really have one.” 

“Did your Guardian not name you?” Prerlas had never asked so many questions of Judgement, who was starting to get overwhelmed.

“That… Uhm… Well…” Judgement started looking around the tent, his words were shaky. 

“I am sorry. I do not want to pry what is difficult. You do not have to discuss it if you do not wish.” Prerlas gingerly held the ghost, trying to comfort it. The silence was awkward. Prerlas did the only thing he could think of to calm Judgement. He gently ran his hands along the edge of the ghost shell and sang.  
“Go to sleep, my little bug  
And dream amongst the stars  
Pluck a cloud out of the air  
And clutch it in your arms  
Keep it close and float along  
The cosmos far and wide  
Do not fret, my little bug  
The Traveler's at your side  
So reach unto the stars  
And live your biggest dream  
Go see all that can be seen  
Then return home safe, to me”

Judgement stopped fidgeting after Prerlas sang the first line, becoming still and intently focused. He grew warm and his shell became more lax around him with each passing line.

“My mother used to sing that when I would not calm. I hope... I hope it helped enlightened one.” Prerlas slouched and exhaled slowly.

"I… Thank you Prerlas. It did. What… happened to your mother?" Judgement calmly watched every inch of him. Prerlas looked up from Judgement and out of the tent. His face tensed a little.

"She was good engineer. Loyal to House of Kings. Served on King Ketch proudly. Ketch was intercepted by Hive Tombship." He paused, then strained, "She dances with stardust now."

"I'm, I'm so sorry Prerlas." Judgment wished he had arms to embrace Prerlas. He had no comfort to give other than words.

"Such." He paused once more, his voice wavering. "Such is the life of Fallen. I had brothers and sisters too. Long gone, or lost."  
“Lost?”  
"There are many ways to be lost. Taken. Misguided. In service to The Queen." Prerlas looked down at Judgement. His face had several tears streaking down it. "Being killed is preferred. Provides... closure."  
Judgement sinks with guilt. The pitter-patter of rain created an irregular rhythm against the tent. Judgement floated out of Prerlas's hand, over to the edge of the tent.

“I don’t have a guardian. I’ve been looking. I’m… picky. I guess.” Judgement turned back to look at Prerlas, who was staring intently at the little ghost.  
“It seems we have both learned a lot about each other today.” The rain grew in intensity, making the pitter-patter shift into a constant, dull roar. “I promise you Judgement, I will get you back to the Light. You will find your guardian one day.” He held out his hand, and Judgement drifted back to it. As the light of Judgement's eye began to fade, Prerlas sang again.


	17. The Forest, Part I

"I can feel the pull Prerlas. We're getting closer."

The forest was dense and there was no sign of other life around. Everything was oddly quiet. As Prerlas walked, the soft, moist ground cushioned his feet. Moss grew heavily on the trees, and a thick layer of fog seemed permanent. 

"Are you positive? This is not a land safe to misstep little Judgement. We must be careful." Prerlas stopped, surveying what little he could see. Had they been here before? It all felt familiar, somehow.

"It's... I can't say with certainty but I feel compelled to go forward. That way." Judgement's eye rotated in his shell. Prerlas had fastened him to the outside of his strap now, a more comfortable arrangement for the both of them.

"I have trust in you. The Traveler will see you again little one. You are my guiding star."   
Judgement buzzed in approval. "And I trust you Captain."

Prerlas laughed. "Not Captain yet. Maybe one day Judgement, with you by my side." He scratched the underside of Judgement's shell.

"I think... I think I'd like that. I haven't found my Guardian yet, what's a few more years, right?"

A shape moved in the fog, causing Prerlas to stop in his tracks and move to the nearest tree.  
"Prerlas?"  
"Quiet. Something in the fog."

Prerlas moved his head around the tree, hands digging into the moss. The shape darted forwards a few feet. Prerlas's heart sunk.


	18. The Forest, Part II

There were few things Prerlas feared more than Guardians, but Taken were among them. They were wholly unnatural. An abberation. They could make him... not Prerlas. 

He dreaded the thought, but his scientific mind went wandering. 'Was your mind intact, being controlled by another entity? Would your spirit be trapped, unable to ever return to the light, slowly being devoured by the darkness? Was everything that was uniquely you erased in an instant?'

His friend Estrasgres had been Taken. More accurately, his entire patrol had been Taken. Prerlas was part of the response, sent to deal with them. He vividly remembered watching the Taken, studying them. Hoping for a sign that his friend still lived. They twitched and lurched, phasing forward. They moved in directed unison. 

He was the one that shot Estrasgres, or what was left of him, sending the taken reeling. It folded in on itself violently, disappearing to another world. The entire moment was surreal, something that belonged in dreams.

But it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare.

And now another nightmare was headed his way.


	19. The Forest, Part III

Prerlas slipped behind the nearest tree and waited, occasionally peeking out to see where the Taken Thrall was moving. It seemed alone, without direction. He looked down at Judgement, who had stayed silent as he was told. The eye rotated in its shell and looked at Prerlas, then slowly moved up and down.

The Thrall moved left and away from them, so Prerlas took the opportunity to try and move to another nearby tree. What he hadn’t noticed, however, was that one of his bags had gotten caught on one of the lower branches.

He sprinted forward briefly before his bag tensed against his shoulders and he was lifted off the ground. The tree branch snapped violently and he fell, landing on his back, the contents of his bags clattered against him. His vision blurred for a second before it regained focus. He snapped his head up and scanned towards the Thrall, which was now moving closer and closer with each passing breath. 

He picked himself up off the ground and started limping away from the Thrall, keeping his focus on it. He had hurt himself enough for it to matter, in this moment. He realized he couldn’t outrun it.

He reached into one of his bags and withdrew his pistol. He hadn’t… hadn’t used it since the last time he saw a Taken. He hadn’t cleaned it or reloaded it either. 4 shots. That was all he was going to have, at best.

Four. He raised the gun and took aim at the Thrall, a finger gently resting on the trigger. He squeezed. It teleported forward. The shot ricocheted off a tree behind it and disappeared into the fog.

Three. He lowered the gun slightly, aiming for its chest now instead. He waited for it to phase closer. It shifted. He fired. The arc energy sizzled and smoked as it slammed into the Taken essence, but the Thrall didn’t slow.

Two. He squeezed the trigger again as the previous shot found its mark, hoping that this one would finish the deed, but it phased forward, almost through the arc bolt. The Thrall was no more than 10 feet away from him now. His hand was shaking and he could hear his teeth chattering.

One. He slowed his breathing and raised his other hand to hold the pistol steady, aiming for the head. It phased once more and raised its claws to attack him, bearing down on him with ferocity. The last arc bolt tore through the Thrall's head, causing it to curl into an awful shape before it was sucked into a portal to another world. The sound of the pistol shots echoed against the trees. 

Prerlas's shoulders relaxed momentarily before a dark thought entered his mind.  
The noise would have alerted any others nearby, and he had no way to defend himself now. He had no way to defend Judgement.  
Judgement.

"Judgement!" Prerlas looked down at the ghost, knowing he had little time before the it would turn off again. “Are there more?”

The ghost shell expanded. After a few moments of humming, Judgement spoke solemntly. “No. No more Taken. But.” His voice wavered, afraid to tell Prerlas what he knew. “I detect two sparrows heading this direction.”


	20. The Forest, Part IV

Prerlas stayed low to the ground, scurrying amongst the fog to try and stay as obfuscated as possible. He could hear the hum of the sparrows nearby, but didn’t see the shape yet. He heard voices.

“Who knows what it was Ant. We don’t even really have a reason to be out here. Can’t we just go back to the Farm already?” Prerlas stopped moving and felt every muscle in his body tense up. Of all the Guardians to be here, it had to be them. 

“Whatever it is, it’s too close to the shard. Berry said it wasn’t a Guardian either. What’s a few more kills Kat? Maybe we’ll end up being heroes.” Prerlas felt the ground rumble slightly as one of the sparrows pierced the veil of the fog from behind a tree. His fingers dug into the ground beneath him, he tried not to let fear overtake him. “Berry. You got anything?”

A ghost materialized near the sparrow, its shell expanded and spun around for a few moments. Prerlas stared at it, making sure that not even a breath would escape him. The shell collapsed back inwards.

“Nothing Antares. Not around here at least.” Prerlas gently exhaled. The sparrow moved forward slightly, edging closer and closer to where Prerlas was laying. He turned his attention to she second sparrow as it came into view. The Hunter sitting on it appeared relaxed. “See, waste of our time Ant.” She leaned back and crossed her arms.

The Titan passed by Prerlas, the heat of his sparrow scorching the grass nearby. “Fine, let’s check the shard before we go back. Need to talk to command anyways, something about reclaiming the City.” The Sparrow took off at incredible speed, for a few short moments at least. When it collided with the tree, the Titan was hurtled off into the fog as debris flew everywhere. The explosion lit up the forest. It also made Prerlas try to shield himself.

Once his eyes adjusted, he looked up from the ground and saw the Hunter staring at him, Hand Cannon drawn and aimed. He couldn’t see a face or an expression behind the helmet. He raised his hands slowly, “Please. No harm.” The Hunter's thumb moved over the hammer, and she pulled it back slowly. He cowered in anticipation of familiar pain, and repeated, “Please.”

“Go.” 

He heard the hammer unclick and looked up at the Hunter, who was putting away her weapon. She turned to him and straddled her sparrow, “Now, if you want to live. He'll be back shortly.”

Prerlas ran.


	21. Sundown

“Prerlas”

He jumped, the voice startling him. Judgement was not supposed to be active right now, at least, not by calculations. He started running again, trying not to let the oddity deter him.

“I’m not going to make it.” The words were full of conviction.

“Of course you will little Judgement. We are almost there.” He panted between words. He was trying his hardest to find the shard. He could rest then. He was tired.

“No. I won’t. I’m almost out of light. I’ve been hibernating myself to preserve what I can, running the few background processes that I needed. I only have a minute and 10 seconds of dedicated time left.”

“What?” Prerlas wanted to know more, but Judgement persisted.

“We won't make it in time. I don’t sense the shard within manageable distance, but you’re going the right way." Prerlas jumped over a root and dodged a low hanging branch, but said nothing. "I chose this Prerlas. I chose how to spend my time, time with you. I wanted to spend more. I've learned so much. You are the only friend I've ever had. I have cherished these days, this journey. You've come to know me better than anyone else. I wouldn't have traded it for anything.”

“I appreciate, but keep these words. Hibernate. Save time. Continue to live.” Prerlas started running faster, harder, but his legs were fatigued. He'd already been running for over an hour.

"I’d rather spend my last moments cognizant. Enjoying earth for what it is. Enjoying all I’ve ever known. This is my choice, not the Travelers. Perlas, You can stop running. I’d like some peace.”

Prerlas came to a stop and unhooked Judgement from his strap. The fog was less dense here and the sun was setting, causing light to pierce through the trees. Prerlas took Judgement in his hand and held him aloft. A sunbeam illuminated Judgement.

"This light is not unlike the Traveler's. It's warm, inviting. Perfect. I wish I could've felt the Traveler once more." Prerlas took his other hand and began gently stroking the shell.

"You will, little Judgement."

"Thank you, for comforting me. For all of this." Judgement's shell dropped and rested against Prerlas's hands. "Prerlas, you have been my light. My guiding star. I wish I could stay by your side and watch you grow. The Traveler will see you one day. I know it." Prerlas's chest tensed, it felt like his muscles were fighting, trying to squeeze his heart. His throat felt heavy. He hadn't felt like this since... since he found out about his Mother. He never wanted to feel this way again.

"Promise me something Prerlas."

"Anything, my friend."

 

But there was no response. 

Tears ran down Prerlas's face. As the sun set, he moved with it. He wanted to keep Judgement touched by the light.

He brought the Ghost to his forehead and gently nuzzled him.

"Although you are Fallen, you will never be lost."


	22. The Shard

The pain was what fueled him to continue. The sun had long been set and he had lost track of time, but at last, he found it. He was going to keep his bargain.

He stood underneath a towering mass that appeared dark and corrupted, all except for the sliver in front of him. It was bright and smooth, a dull warmth radiated from it. Prerlas took a moment to survey the surrounding area to ensure he was alone, then collapsed to his knees from exhaustion. He slowly unseated Judgement from his strap, and held him up in front of the shard.

"Traveler." 

He hesistated. The sounds of the forest helped ease him, reminding him of the night he spent in the tent, not long ago. There were clouds masking the stars overhead, but the moon shone through brightly. Judgement would have loved this night.

"I have returned this Ghost, Traveler. I should not ask of you, but I will. See this Ghost. See him, as he saw me. Return him to you. My words are small and meager, but please, hear them." The warmth of the shard grew more intense. He looked at Judgement, hoping for any sign of movement.

No sign came.

His chest tightened. He did not want everything to be in vain. He wanted to see his friend again. He hadn't realized what Judgement meant to him until he was gone. He regretted being unable to tell Judgement how he felt. His life had been so full of regrets. No more.

He spoke, not to the Traveler, but to Judgement.

"You were also my friend. My only friend. I acted as though you were mine. I was selfish. You might still be alight if I had given you to the Guardians. I should have. You were greater than me. I would have given my life for you, but you refused me, judged me worthy to continue." Prerlas began tracing the edges of the Ghost shell with his fingers, gently pulling them, though they did not move. He wanted them to move.

"You changed me, little one. I will never forget you. The children of my children will hear stories of the one called Judgement, savior of the great Kell Prerlas. I will miss you every day."

He looked up at smooth, white section of the Traveler in front of him. He felt anger. Sadness. Why did the Traveler refuse him? Was it because he was Fallen? He only wanted to do what was right for another, just this once.

The shard radiated with heat now. His curiousity began to get the better of him. Was the Traveler trying to talk to him? Judgement had said it did not talk, it felt. And understood. Did he need to touch it? Prerlas leaned forward and reached out for the shard.

The bullet tore through his chest, destroying part of his lungs. Viscera coated the shard in front of him, and he went limp, dropping Judgement before falling to the grass below. Prerlas watched his blood pour out onto the ground as his ether faded into the night sky. He tried to breathe, but his lungs made an awful sucking sound, unable to hold air. He began suffocating. His heart started to slow.

With the last of his strength, Prerlas put his right hand on Judgement, holding his friend one last time. He tried to speak, but no words came out. His body stopped moving, and he realized his mind was soon to follow.  
He spent his final moments in the warmth of the Traveler, alone under the moonlight. He repeated his Mother's song in his mind until his mind was no more.


	23. Epilogue

Judgement's eye flickered several times before fully coming alight. He could see the moonlight, the clouds. But as he became more conscious, he noticed smoke rising into the night sky in front of him.

He tried to move, but something was weighing him down. He could feel the Light flooding into him, recharging him. Where was the Light coming from? Renewed, he pushed again, this time moving past the weight. As he broke free, he turned back to see what had held him in place. He saw a hand. Prerlas's hand.

Fear.  
Panic.  
He backed up more, trying to survey the scene. Prerlas's lifeless body laid out on the ground. A chest wound. His shell expanded and he scanned Prerlas, hoping for any sign of life.  
But there was none.  
"No. No no no no no no, please Traveler, no."  
He scanned again.  
And again.  
And again.

Prerlas's left hand was touching the base of the shard, and his right had covered Judgement. He had done it. He saved Judgement. He upheld his side of the bargain. So many feelings, so little understanding.

Judgement expanded his shell out once more, this time looking for Guardian signatures. There were two, not close, but not far. One of them started moving away from them. He grew angry. He wanted vengeance. 

He couldn't leave Prerlas though. He wouldn't. Never again.

He turned his gaze upon the body. He could see a small spark of Light from inside Prerlas. Was it there before? Did it matter now?

Judgement still couldn't hear the Traveler. Good. He wasn't going back to the Vanguard. He wasn't going back anywhere.

Judgement floated over and slowly placed himself in Prerlas's hand. He would wait for this war to be over.

He wasn't going to leave his friend.

He wasn't going to leave his Guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this! This is the first thing I've posted publicly and I greatly appreciate the response to it. I'm currently working on the next Part right now and hope to have some things up in the next few days as I fight the urge to re-edit the entirety of Part 1 again.


End file.
